


Lost and Found

by can_i_slytherin



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 5+1 Things, Domestic, Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 11:21:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21135884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/can_i_slytherin/pseuds/can_i_slytherin
Summary: Five times that Steve lost something of Bucky's and the one time he found something.(These aren't technically lost because Steve gets them back again, but technicalities can bugger off)





	Lost and Found

**1: Grandma Barnes’ Knitted Jumper **

Steve was panicking. It was winter and Bucky had gone off to his night shift at the Navy Yard with a promise that he would be back before sunrise and he had left his favourite knitted jumper at the apartment to keep him warm. 

Bucky had had the jumper since his sixteenth birthday and Grandma Barnes had knitted it for him before she had passed away. Bucky loved the jumper because it was his only real connection to his grandmother, minus a few of her belongings, and it was the last thing that she had given him. 

But, Steve was panicking because he had lost it. He had gone for a shower- they were finally caught up with all their bills, so they had hot water again and Steve wanted to take advantage of that. When he had gone into the bathroom, the jumper was on the back of the sofa, but when he had come out, it was gone. 

Steve, in all his naked glory, had frantically searched the apartment. He had torn apart the living room, destroyed the bedroom, completely obliterated the kitchen and demolished the bathroom. But, the blasted jumper was nowhere to be found. 

Steve had collapsed in the middle of their now-tarnished apartment, his lungs burning as he balanced precariously on the cusp of an asthma attack. His muscles screamed in protest everytime he tried to move and he chose to sprawl on his back, staring up at the nicotine-stained ceiling. 

The more he thought about his misplacement of the jumper, the more he realised that Bucky would be _ heartbroken _and the more he felt completely miserable. He grabbed one of the throw pillows, donated by Bucky’s parents when they first moved in, and pressed it against his face, screaming into the fabric. 

Steve laid there for an unhealthy amount of time. The sky was dark and their little neighbourhood in Brooklyn had quietened as soon as the sun had set. Steve’s back had started to hurt from being sprawled across the hard floor for so long but he couldn’t find the energy to move. He just laid there, in the midst of their bomb-site of an apartment, and cried into the pillow, wishing that he could find Bucky’s stupid jumper. 

That was where Bucky found him at 3am, when he returned from his shift. He had panicked for a second upon seeing the state of their apartment, thinking that Steve had been attacked, but there was no sign of a break in or any kind of struggle, so Bucky allowed himself to relax. 

“Heya, Stevie.” Bucky whispered, closing the front door with a gentle shove- the locking mechanism never clicked into place properly unless it was given a sharp nudge. 

“Go away, Buck.” Steve replied, his voice muffled by the cushion over his face. 

“What happened in here, darlin’?” Bucky walked over to where Steve was sprawled across the floor and knelt down next to him, moving to pry the pillow away from the blonde’s face. He sighed when Steve tightened his grip and resorted to poking his life-long friend in the ribs. Steve squawked, momentarily releasing his hold on the pillow, and Bucky used that to his advantage, ripping it away from his face. 

Steve stubbornly turned his head away from Bucky and shut his eyes, “Don’t wanna talk about it.” 

Bucky sighed and nodded, scooping Steve into his arms bridal-style, “Come on,” Bucky stood up, cradling Steve close to his chest as he walked through the apartment to their bedroom, “we need to get you off the floor and into the bed, staying here for god-knows how long has probably done nothing to help your back.”

Steve buried his head in Bucky’s chest, “It hasn’t.” 

Bucky sighed and nudged their bedroom door open with his hip, lowering Steve onto the bed, “I’ll run into the pharmacy tomorrow and see if I can get you some of the good pain meds and maybe dig out one of our old hot water bottles. Now, you gonna talk to me?” 

Steve frowned stubbornly and slowly rolled over onto his stomach, burying his face in Bucky’s pillow, “No.” 

Bucky smiled and plunged his hands under Steve’s stomach, flipping the smaller man onto his back, “Stop being a pigheaded ass and talk to me, _ Steven. _” 

Steve peaked an eye open to throw the brunet as disapproving look, “I hate when you call me Steven.” 

Bucky lightly slapped his shoulder, “Good, you know you’ve done wrong then. Talk to me, please?” 

Steve shook his head, scrunching his eyes shut, and crossed his arms over his chest, “No.”

“Stevie-doll, you gotta tell me. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.” Bucky whispered, his voice soft, and he gripped onto Steve’s jaw, forcing him to turn his head. He gasped when he saw the red, puffiness surrounding the blonde’s eyes and frowned, gently stroking down Steve’s crooked nose, “Babydoll, my darlin’, my sweet Steve, what happened?” 

“You won’t wanna help me, if I tell you what happened, Buck.” Steve whimpered, his bottom lip quivering, “You’ll hate me.”

Bucky recoiled in shock, his frown deepening, “Steve,” Bucky’s voice was sterner now, more concerned, “what happened?” 

Steve opened his eyes, tears gathering in them, and bit his lip as he stared into Bucky’s concern-riddled gaze, “I lost it.” 

It was like a dam had broken within Steve and all the tears that he had been trying to hold back had fallen with no signs of stopping. He covered his face with his hands, turning onto his side so he wouldn’t have to look at Bucky, and froze when he felt the bed dip behind him. Bucky nuzzled closer, pressing himself flush against Steve’s back, and kissed the back of Steve’s neck, just under his hairline. 

“Stevie, baby.” Bucky whispered, his voice soft and careful as if he was talking to a wounded animal, “My beautiful Stevie, look at me, please? Turn around.” 

Steve, albeit reluctantly, turned so that he was facing Bucky. Tears streaked down his cheeks, rolling down his neck and onto the pillow, and he hastily wiped them away, “I’m sorry, Buck.” 

“Steve, what did you lose?” Bucky whispered, cupping the blonde’s cheeks and wiping away his tears. 

“The _ fucking jumper, _Bucky!” Steve yelled, “I lost your fucking jumper.” 

Bucky gave him an admonishing flick, a teasing smile spread across his face, “Watch your language.” 

Steve, despite his melancholy mood, barked out a laugh, “Shut up, dork.” 

Bucky kissed his nose, “You love me.” 

The blonde got a weird, far-off look in his eyes and smiled fondly, “Yeah, I do.” 

“You’re a softie at heart.” Bucky replied, despite his teasing tone he had an affectionate look in his eyes, “I love you too, though.” 

“I doubt you love me as much anymore considering I lost your damn jumper.” Steve grumbled and Bucky gave him another admonishing flick which made the blond yelp and rub his hip. 

“Stop it,” Bucky whispered harshly, “we’ll find it, okay? And, if we don’t, then oh well. Things get lost all the time, Steve.” 

“But, you loved that jumper. Grandma Barnes knitted it for you.” Steve whispered, “It was the last thing that she gave you.” 

Bucky sighed and dipped his hand into his shirt, pulling out a thin chain with a sapphire pendant, “She gave me this too, Steve. I have so many things from Grandma, not just that jumper. It would suck if we lost it _ but _ lost things always turn up eventually.” Bucky stood up, pressing a chaste kiss to Steve’s lips and smiled, “Right now, you need to sleep and I need to clean up our apartment because _ someone _,” Bucky took on a playful tone, “trashed it.” 

Steve went to protest but stopped when Buccky threw him a silencing look. He instead chose to throw a pillow at him as he went to leave, laughing when the brunet yelped and dodged it, “I hate you!” 

Bucky yelled to him over his shoulder as he disappeared into the living room, “No, you don’t!” 

Steve rolled his eyes and pulled himself to his feet, wincing when his muscles screamed in protest. He stumbled across the room, leaning against the wall for support as he dug through their pile of washing for a clean shirt to wear to bed. He found one, in the end, and threw it on, giggling as it swamped his frame. He came to the conclusion that it was Bucky’s and dipped his head into the neckline, inhaling the heavenly scent- ship oil, sweat, and cheap cologne- that he had come to associate with the brunet. 

Steve sunk into the bed, burrowing under the age-old blankets, and stared up at the ceiling, waiting for Bucky to return from the living room so that they could cuddle. He did return, eventually, and slipped into the bed beside Steve, pressing his warm feet against Steve’ calf muscles. He pressed his face into Steve’s back, grinning when the blond moaned in appreciation. Bucky curled around Steve, pressing as close as he could, and traced smooth circles into Steve’s abdomen. 

“You’re wearing my shirt.” Bucky noticed, pressing a heated kiss against Steve’s neck. 

“I’d be wearing your jumper too, if I hadn’t lost it.” The smaller man grouched, yelping when Bucky smacked his hip, “Okay, okay.” Steve whispered defensively, “I get it, _ we’ll find it. _” 

They never did find it, but Bucky never mentioned it and nor did Steve. 

  


**2: Dog Tags**

When Steve had woken up in 2011 and escaped the fake hospital room that S.H.I.E.L.D had him held in, he had sat down in a technology-filled room with _ Director _Fury so that he could be told that he had woken up precisely sixty-six years into the future. He was re-introduced to the world, caught up with all the important things, given a weird flat device called a tablet and told to get comfortable with the new world. 

Before being released from the S.H.I.E.L.D holding facility, he was given his personal effects and smiled in thanks. He had dug through the bag, searching for the most important thing, and froze when he found that they weren’t there. 

“Sorry, Director Fury?!” Steve called, stopping the stoic man as he went to exit the room, “There should be a set of dog tags in here, when I went down I was wearing them. Where are they?” 

“They weren’t yours,” Fury responded, “so we assumed that they had gotten mixed up and removed them from your body.” 

Steve’s blood ran cold and he froze in his seat, his hand hovering above the plastic bag in front of him. His heartbeat increased and his chest tightened, something he hadn’t experienced since before the serum. Steve took a deep, calming breath and cleared his throat, “Where are they?” 

“What do you want with them?” Fury questioned, his eyebrow arched. 

“They were…” Steve trailed off, unsure as to whether he could tell Fury the truth, but shook his head and squared his jaw in defiance, “They were my boyfriend’s, he gave them to me before he fell from the train. You have to understand, Director Fury, I _ need _those tags.” 

Fury’s face twisted into a look of understanding and he nodded, unhooking the weird device from his belt- Steve noticed that it looked like a packset but much, _ much _smaller. He began to talk into it, a hint of urgency to his voice, “Whoever has Captain Rogers’ belongings, I need you to return to Conference Room 29 immediately.” 

“Thank you, Director Fury.” Steve whispered, digging his fingers into the muscle of his thigh. Fury gave a curt, understanding nod. 

A few minutes later, an agent burst into the room with a box labelled James Buchanan Barnes and Steve’s heart leapt into his throat. He stared at the container with a longing look in his eyes and carefully took the box away from the young man, setting it on the table in front of him. 

“Can I keep this?” Steve whispered as he took the top off the container, “Please?” 

“We can’t see why not, it’s only going to be given to the museum. Most of your’s and Mr Barnes’ belongings are there.” Fury explained. 

Steve lifted his head, a beaming grin spread across his face, “Thank you, so much, Director Fury. Would you be able to give me the address for this museum, I’d like to see it myself.” 

“Of course.” Fury responded and handed Steve a piece of paper with an address scrawled across it. Steve plucked the paper from his fingers and laid it gently atop Bucky’s belongings in the plastic box. 

Steve searched for a few more seconds, snatching up the dog tags when he found them, and laid them in the palm of his hand, smiling down at the familiar inscriptions. 

_ Sgt. James B Barnes _

_ 32557038 T42 43 A _

_ Steven G Rogers _

_ Cpt. Steven G Rogers _

_ 987654320 T42 43 O _

_ James B Barnes _

Steve clipped the dog tags around his neck, smiling at their familiar weight, and tucked them into his shirt before he turned to Fury, “Thank you, Director.” Fury gave him a dismissive wave. Steve shut the container, gently tracing the lettering of Bucky’s name, and tucked the box under his arm, “I best be going now, I guess. I need to find a new apartment.” 

“Good luck, Captain Rogers.” Fury replied as Steve exited the conference room. 

_ I’m gonna need a lot more than luck, Director. _

**3 & 4: An Age-Old Framed Photo and Some Letters from the War **

Steve had been awake for a little over two weeks. It had taken him three days to access his bank accounts and find a suitable apartment in Brooklyn- he wanted to be as close to home as he could manage. It had taken him a further two days to fully furnish the flat and he had to continuously remind himself that he had money now, so he could, if he wanted to, spend $900 on a _ very _comfortable bed. 

The rest of the days were spent sat at his dining room table, staring at the container he had, in a way, stolen from S.H.I.E.L.D. He had tried to find the energy to open it, to look through the things of Bucky’s that S.H.I.E.L.D had managed to gather before it was taken to a museum but he couldn’t find the strength. 

However, on a particularly boring, rainy Wednesday afternoon, Steve stomped into his bedroom with a determined spring to his step and dug through his closet, pulling Bucky’s box out onto his bed. He stared down at it, tracing the lettering of his name, and tore the box open before he could convince himself to change his mind. 

Sat on top of the belongings, still there from when Steve had received it from Fury, was the address for the Captain America Museum. He took it from the box and set it on the floor, deciding that he would open that can of worms another day. He began to slowly dig through the other belongings, unloading them onto the floor and his bed, and sat back after a few minutes, admiring the army-grade neatness. 

“Okay, Buck, let’s see what they managed to save.” Steve whispered to himself and began to _ really look _ at the items laid before him. 

There was a tin of hair gel and a fine-toothed comb. Grandma Barnes’ knitted jumper was folded up, settled on the corner of his bed, and Steve laughed, remembering the time that had lost the damn thing. They hadn't managed to find it, despite searching high and low for the blasted thing, and Steve wanted to ask, whoever had found it, where it had been hiding. But he shook the thought from his mind, deciding that he was happy that the jumper was back in his possession, and, with a heavy feeling in his chest, the blond cradled the jumper against his chest, pressing his nose into the neckline, and inhaled, recoiling in surprise when he noticed the residual smell of Bucky that had lingered for the last sixty-odd years. Steve settled the jumper in his lap, refusing to let go of the fabric for a single second, and continued to look.

There were a bunch of Bucky’s old reading books and Steve took his time to flip through the yellowed pages, grinning when, in Bucky’s handwriting, there was an inscription of his name in each one. Next came an engraved tin, it was for Bucky’s cigarettes, and Steve had given it to him for his 21st birthday. The tin was personalised with an engraving and, without even looking at it, Steve knew what it said. 

_ Bucky, _

_ I swear, you’ll die of lung cancer one day, but I still love you- lord knows I can't shake this habit. _

_ Love, Stevie _

Steve remembered that he had gone to an underground business for the engraving, not wanting to be found out and arrested, and he remembered the knowing smile that the woman behind the counter had given him. 

Steve smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes, and set the tin back down in its place as he moved on. The blond picked up a worn down teddy bear, missing one eye, an arm and a few patches of fur and grinned down at the age-old plushie. Bucky had owned the toy since the age of five and had happily named it Mr. Snuggles. When he and Steve had moved in together, Winnifred had dug the bear out of the attic, missing a limb, and thrust it at Bucky, telling him that Mr. Snuggles could live with him. Steve had said yes in an instant, packing the toy into a box labelled _ ‘bedroom’ _and it had lived on Steve’s nightstand since that moment, being there for him when Bucky’s couldn’t be. 

He set the bear down, with an overwhelming feeling of nostalgia, and dug through Bucky’s belongings a little longer before he realised, with a sickening feeling of dread, that none of their letters or pictures were in the box. Steve remembered a drawing, of him and Bucky, that had been framed but that was nowhere to be seen and the sick feeling in his stomach worsened. 

The blond packed the belongings back into the box, resigning himself to the fact that he would have to visit the museum after all. 

***~*~*~*~ **

The following afternoon found Steve stood at the Smithsonian, in _ his _ exhibit. There were so many things that these so-called historians had gotten wrong, but didn’t focus on that. He instead chose to find his way to Bucky’s exhibit, smiling when he saw a display entitled: _ ‘James B Barnes and Steven G Rogers- more than friends?’ _

Steve took his time to read through the sign, taking in every detail that the author had written. 

_ Steve Rogers and James “Bucky” Barnes were inseparable since childhood. The two men lived in a run-down, shabby apartment in Brooklyn, NY, but they still called it home. When Bucky was shipped off to Europe, Steve was enrolled in an experimental program that gave him the body that we all know today. There are very few records of what happened in their Brooklyn apartment but one can suggest, from the letters that were sent during the war, that James and Steve were much more than ‘just friends’. _

Steve smiled and cast his gaze to the glass cabinet that housed his and Bucky’s letters from the war, smiling gently as he reread through the old correspondence. 

_ Buck, _

_ Your ma came over again today, wanted to check that I hadn’t died in the night- I wish I had. She tried to help pay the bills or buy me some food, but I refused- I know that you’ll call me stubborn but I really don’t need the help. _

_ I’ve started drawing for some really wealthy people up in the main city, they pay well and I haven’t missed a single bill this month- if only I’d thought to do this while you were still here. _

_ Which brings me to my next subject, I wish you were here still. I wish you didn’t have to fight. I wish that you could curl up behind me like you used to. I miss the feel of your body, your warmth, the hard lines of muscle. I miss your smell. I miss YOU. Everything about you. _

_ I love you, Buck, so much and when you come home, I’m gonna give you the biggest, wettest, longest kiss EVER. _

_ I know I’ve already said it but I miss you and I love you and I want you to come home soon. _

_ All my love, _

_ Stevie _

Steve moved onto the next letter, a clear response to his previous one, and smiled at Bucky’s frantic, annoyed scrawl. 

_ Stevie, _

_ You’re right, I am going to call you stubborn because you are! Ma just wants to help, she’s ma. Let her make you a casserole or buy you a string of sausages, it’ll make her feel useful. _

_ I’m glad you’ve got a bit more money behind you, Steve, I like to hear that you’re getting on well. I’ve been worried sick that you haven’t had enough food or hot water or that you’ve been kicked out for not paying rent. _

_ I love you too, Steve, more than I can even begin to describe. I miss you so much. Your tiny body, your temper, your inexplicable urge to get into fights in every back alley in Brooklyn. I miss you smell, you always smelt like vanilla and your hair was always so soft. I miss your eyes as well, they were just the most beautiful shade of blue- like a never-ending sky and I could just get lost in them. _

_ I want to come home too, babydoll, and I wish I didn’t have to fight, but I need to because we need to win this war. But, I promise you that I will come home. _

_ Good, can’t wait. I’ll be dreaming of that kiss, my darling. _

_ Yours forever, _

_ Bucky _

Steve turned away, tears gathering in his eyes, and cleared his throat, his eyes moving to the next thing in the cabinet: the frame drawing. It was a rough sketch of Bucky, “asleep” on the couch, at the Barnes household on Christmas morning. There was a small smile on his face, revealing his true state of wakefulness, and he had his arms tucked behind his head with his legs crossed at the ankles. He looked beautiful, happy and at peace and Steve had just had to capture the image, immortalise that moment in charcoal. When Bucky had seen the drawing, he had ordered Steve to rip it out of the sketchbook so that he could frame it and it had lived on Bucky’s bedside from that moment onward. 

A tear slipped down Steve’s cheek, remembering the tenderness of his and Bucky’s relationship, and he turned on his heel, marching out of the museum with a promise to return when he was more emotionally prepared. 

**5: Mr. Snuggles**

Bucky was alive. He was mentally unstable, brainwashed and under the control of Hydra but he was alive. After their fight on the bridge, Steve had vowed to break his Bucky free from the clutches of the evil organisation and he had kept that promise. 

Bucky had gone A.W.O.L, disappeared like a ghost, and turned up again in Vienna on the same day as the bomb attack that killed King T'Chaka. Then, the events of the Civil War had happened. 

Steve had fought to protect Bucky, destroyed his friendship with Tony, and gone on the run to Wakanda with T'Challa. 

Bucky had gone back into Cryostasis and Shuri, T'Challa's sister, had worked tirelessly worked to remove the trigger words and restore Bucky's brain to his control. 

T'Challa had offered Steve, Sam and Natasha lodgings in the palace. Steve and Sam had accepted but Natasha had declined, stating that she had a friend somewhere in Eastern Europe that owed her a favour. She had been given clearance into the city under the order that she could return to Wakanda if ever she needed to and a room in the palace had been kept clear for her. 

Steve moved into one of the little huts in the village, claiming that he couldn't put T'Challa out of pocket but, really, he just liked the atmosphere. He had moved a few of his belongings into the house, one of which was the box of Bucky's things. 

Steve spent most of his time with the village elders, learning stories of Wakanda's history and the magic that was contained within the earth. He, for the first time since Bucky going back into the ice, felt at peace and calm. 

One day, upon returning from a visit to the elders, Steve had gone to look through the box and noticed, with a stomach full of dread, that Mr. Snuggles, the eyeless, armless bear, was missing. 

He had panicked for a solid fifteen minutes, tearing through his hut to find it, the house was in shambles and Steve remembered a moment like this in a different era when he was in a different body and with a different lost item. 

Steve sat down on the couch, placed his head in his hands and took a deep breath, trying to mentally retrace his steps to see if he could remember where he had misplaced it. 

He stood up, walked over to the window, and looked out over the village as he chewed thoughtfully on the inside of his cheek. Steve's gaze was drawn to the village children, playing in the road, and his heart soared at the sight that greeted him. 

Mr. Snuggles was tucked under the arm of a young girl and she had the brightest smile on her face, showing the age-old teddy bear to her friends. 

Suddenly, Steve's heart felt too big for his chest and he let out a gleeful giggle, a wide grin spreading across his lips. 

He knew that Bucky wouldn't mind that Mr. Snuggles had been given a new home because, deep down, Bucky was always a softie who loved to see a happy smile on a child's face. 

Steve, not so deep down, loved it too. 

  


**+1: The Engagement Ring**

It had taken some time, but Shuri had successfully removed the trigger words from Bucky's brain and his mind was rightfully his own again. After a few tests, Bucky had been released from Shuri's medical care under the promise that he would return if he felt that anything was wrong. 

The newly-free Bucky Barnes had been led down to Steve's hut by one of the Dora Milaje and told that the 'angsty white boy' would be waiting for him inside. 

Bucky had stepped through the door, walked up behind Steve, and wrapped his arms around the blond's waist. 

"Missed me, Punk?" He had whispered, pressing a gentle kiss against the back of Steve's neck. 

Steve had whirled around so fast, a bright grin spread across his cheeks, and he had lifted Bucky into the air, laughing gleefully, "Buck?!" 

Bucky had slapped Steve's shoulder, a chorus of laughter bubbling up from his throat, "Put me down, ya great lug." 

Steve had smiled sheepishly and set Bucky back on the floor, choosing instead to cup Bucky's cheeks and stare lovingly into the brunet's eyes. 

"How long have you been out for?!"

Bucky had shrugged, "A few hours?" 

The blond had lunged forward, wrapping his arms around Bucky's waist, and buried his head in his neck, "I've missed you."

Bucky had run a hand through Steve's hair, pressing a kiss atop the gentle curls, "I know, but I'm here now." 

Steve had pulled back, his eyes shining with tears, "How much do you remember?" 

The ex-assassin had smiled, a far-off look in his eyes, "Not enough. I remember a few milestone things, my eighteenth birthday or your twenty-first. I remember New Years’ Day of 1934 because that was when we both stopped pining and admitted our feelings- it was our first kiss that day too.” 

Steve had smiled so wide, “That’s good, Buck, it’s a step forward.” 

That was nearly four months ago and Bucky was almost back to his old self. Some things had changed, but that was to be expected. No one could withstand 70 years of torture without it having a fundamental impact on someone’s personality. 

But Bucky was doing _ really _ well though. He had a small paddock out the back of the hut that was reserved for a small herd of goats that _ adored _ Bucky but completely _ despised _Steve. 

However, Steve, being the good boyfriend that he was, had put up with the evil creatures because Bucky was completely infatuated by them and Steve would give anything in the world to see that beautiful smile of Bucky’s. 

It was a normal Saturday afternoon, the hot Wakandan sun was beating down, casting an all-too-warm feeling over the country, and Steve was left alone to deal with the hut and the _ damn _goats. 

Bucky had left that morning, pressing a chaste kiss to Steve’s cheeks with a promise to return home for lunch, and left Steve with a few departing words on how to deal with the goats. Steve had panicked for a few seconds, spluttering that he couldn’t deal with the devil spawns but Bucky had given in an encouraging smile and Steve felt like he could do anything after that. 

And that was how Steve found himself in his current predicament. He had gone out to the backyard, dug through the barrel that Bucky had designated for goat food, and froze when he found a little, blue, velvet box. He had dropped the bucket, goat feed splattering everywhere, and the little devils had bleated in annoyance but trotted over and began to eat, occasionally glaring at Steve. 

The blond had ignored them, staggered inside, and flopped down on the sofa, cradling the little box in his too-large hands. He had been too scared to open it, so simply stared down at it and waited for Bucky to return home- this was something that needed to be discussed. 

It was two in the afternoon when Bucky traipsed through the door and he stopped dead in his tracks upon seeing Steve hunched over on the couch. He dropped his bag by the front door, shuffling over to his boyfriend, and placed a gentle hand on Steve’s shoulder. 

“Everything okay, babydoll?” Bucky whispered and then his gaze fell on the box cradled in Steve’s hands. He gasped, his hand flying up to his mouth and immediately began to stutter out an explanation, moving to sit next to Steve on the couch, “Stevie, I’m so sorry! I never meant for you to find it. It was supposed to be a surprise, I was going to tell you next month, on our anniversary, but that’s ruined now. I understand if you’re not ready for that step yet or if you don’t ever want that kind of commitment and I should have thought about all this before getting the ring. But, Steve, I just love you so much.” 

Bucky was panting by the time he had finished, his chest was heaving and his eyes were wide and filled with tears. He gripped Steve’s forearm, giving it a gentle squeeze when Steve didn’t respond, “Stevie, say something.”

Steve flipped the box open, staring down at the ring with a sense of familiarity, his gaze traveled to the stone sat in the centre, a small sapphire, and a memory of a necklace popped into his head, “This is the necklace that Grandma Barnes gave you.” 

Bucky nodded, “Yeah, mixed with the metal of mom’s wedding ring, but it’s mostly the necklace.” 

Steve, for the first time since Bucky returning home, looked up at his boyfriend, a weird sparkle in his eyes, “And, this is an engagement ring?” Bucky gave him a weird look but nodded, “And you were going to ask me next month?” Another nod, “But, I found the ring too early and ruined your plans.” 

“No,” Bucky interjected, moving to kneel in front of Steve, “you didn’t ruin them, you just changed them. Yes, I had this whole romantic speech planned but sitting here with you, right now, has made me realise that I don’t need to do that. You’re all I need, here and now and forever more. I love you, Steve, and I always have. Since I first met you in that playground to now and until the day I die. I’m with you ‘til the end of the line, Steviedoll. So, will you do me the honor of becoming mine forever? Will you marry me, _ Steven? _” 

Steve rolled his eyes, wiping away the tears that had threatened to fall, and beamed a smile so wide that his face hurt, “Buck… the honor would be mine. You’re so… I love you.” Steve pitched himself forward, tackling Bucky to the floor and peppered his face in kisses, stopping at his lips to kiss him deeply. 

Bucky pulled away, lips red and kiss-bitten and panting heavily, “Is that a yes?” 

Steve nodded and grinned down at the ring that was slipped onto his left hand. As he stared up at his now-fiancé, Steve had never felt happier. 

  
Some important things may get lost over time, but _ sometimes _more important things were found and Steve had first-hand experience with that.


End file.
